


Fractured

by CherieoftheDragons (SignCherie)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Rite of Tranquility, Tranquil Anders
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-08 16:19:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8851696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SignCherie/pseuds/CherieoftheDragons
Summary: Anders and Justice have become so merged that they are now one consciousness. Sharing a mind is their natural state. They are Anders. And Anders is utterly in love with Hawke.
And then--Anders is made Tranquil, and their soul is rent in two.
Trapped helplessly in the Fade, Justice turns in desperation to the one person he trusts above all.





	1. Chapter 1

Searing, red-hot agony. His forehead burned where the iron brand charred his flesh. Maker have mercy, no one could feel this and live, surely--

But that was the point, wasn’t it? He’d hardly be alive after this.

Beyond the pain, Anders could feel something else beginning. It was…calm. Peaceful.

_No, not that, please, anything but that--_

A sharp jolt startled Anders out of the haze that was taking over his mind. Something in his head tore, wrenching him in two directions. On one side, he was slowly going numb. But on the other…

...the calm was gone. Only raw, ragged pain remained. He was no longer a person. He was barely a fragment

empty

wrong

Justice (he was Justice, he realized dimly) watched in horror from the Fade as Anders’s face went slack, as the light went out of his eyes. One of the templars laughed.

The knight captain gave him a look that could silence an army. “This is not a frivolous matter. It’s an unfortunate necessity. He’s no threat now. Leave him in peace.”

Justice fumed at the audacity of the man, pretending to take the moral high ground, as if those words could erase the injustice of what he had done. The knight captain was guilty of heinous crimes, far worse than he even knew. What he’d done to Anders, to Justice, to

who was he

he was pain. He was a jagged, open wound, every part of him screaming in misery for what was not there.

Justice reached desperately for Anders, but there was a wall, even stronger than the Veil, like immutable steel between them. He was helpless here, unable to join his other half, unable to enact the justice that he raged for on the horrible fiends that had committed this atrocity.

He needed...he needed…

Hawke. He needed Hawke. His beautiful Autumn, the balm to his soul, the fiery protector of his world. She would do it. She would save him. Save them. Save _him_ , both halves of himself.

Yes. Autumn. Autumn was his hope.

**********

Anders had been gone for days, and Hawke was worried.

Five days, to be exact. Almost a week. Anders left on missions for the mage underground sometimes, sure, but he’d never been gone for more than three days at a time.

Now it was five.

Autumn paced back and forth before the library fireplace, trying not to imagine the worst and failing spectacularly. Maybe he was…

No. She wouldn’t think it.

...captured. Imprisoned. Killed.

Maker.

“Messere.”

The name startled Hawke out of her thoughts, and she stopped in her tracks. Bodahn stood in front of her, biting his lip.

“If you don’t mind me saying so--” The dwarf hesitated, took a deep breath, then rushed on quickly. “Go to the Gallows.”

Hawke blinked, not quite processing what he’d said. “The Gallows?”

“You won’t be able to rest until you see he’s not there. Ask your templar friends. They will know.”

An icy fear gripped Hawke. Go to the Gallows? What if she found him within those walls? What if the templars knew where he was? As long as she stayed away, she could pretend he was coming back. If he’d been captured, or…

...killled…

Maker have mercy.

But no. No, Anders was smart. Strong. He knew what he was doing. And he had the mage underground backing him.

Seeing Hawke lost in her thoughts, Bodahn scurried away.

Yes. She would go. She’d talk to Thrask, and then she would know that Anders was coming home. No more fear.

**********

Adrenaline raced through Hawke’s veins as she stepped through the gates to the courtyard, and she couldn’t say if it was from hope or fear. Coherent thoughts would not form in her head. Only his name pounded through her. _Anders. Anders. Anders._

She needed to focus. Thrask. If he wasn’t here, she would ask a templar to find him. Hawke needed someone she trusted. She couldn’t announce to some random templar that Anders was a mage. No, she needed to maintain at least the pretense that the templars didn’t know.

Hawke scanned the on-duty templars for Thrask’s face. Nothing. He was nowhere to be found. She was about to approach one of the other templars when she caught something out of the corner of her eye.

And the world ended.

It was the one thing she hadn’t let herself think of, the one possibility she’d blocked out. Impossible. The world couldn’t fit together, couldn’t make sense if--

Anders looked at her blankly, no sign of interest at her presence. The tranquil brand glared on his forehead.

_No. No. No no no no nononononono--_

She was barely aware of her feet carrying her forward, barely aware of the tears stinging her eyes. Couldn’t notice the wind against her face or the people who stopped to stare at her as she ran. Her feet missed a step, and she stumbled, hands catching on Anders’s coat to break her fall.

Through the blur of tears, she saw his impassive face.

“Hello, Hawke,” he said.

A choking sob rose in Autumn’s throat, and her chest heaved as it escaped her lips. She tightened her grip on his coat, yanking him towards her. There was no change in his face as his body jerked forward.

Now that the sobs had started, Autumn couldn’t make them stop. Her head fell forward against Anders’s chest, tears soaking into the fabric of his coat as shuddering gasps wracked her body.

_Impossible. Impossible. Impossible._

“You are sad,” Anders said.

She’d failed him. In the worst way possible. Autumn’s fingers clenched more tightly where they held his coat. She was supposed to protect him. She’d promised him she would. And now--here he stood. He’d met a fate he’d been terrified of, that he’d considered worse than death.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered through her tears. “I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t respond.

_Impossible_. Her heart couldn’t beat, her lungs couldn’t breathe. Blackness crept around the edges of Autumn’s vision, and she fought against it, mentally flailing against her dimming sight. No, no, she couldn’t black out now. Desperately, Hawke reached for the dagger at her belt. She couldn’t leave Anders in this state. One last act, her final duty--she owed him that much.

But the darkness overtook her. Her knees gave out beneath her, and she felt her body fall. And then--

Nothing.

...

Not nothing.

“Autumn.”

She’d never heard anything when knocked unconscious before. Lights, colors flashing in her mind--she’d awakened remembering those. But a voice--

Never.

With her name still echoing in her ears, a face began to form in front of her. Blue, glowing--Anders.

Anders, and yet--not. Something was wrong. Different.

His features were twisted in pain, in sorrow. Not Anders. The soul looking back at her from those desperate eyes was not quite the man she knew--and at the same time, it was.

One thing was unmistakable. He was pleading for help.

And in a heartbeat, he was gone, and she was blinking against the sunlight that slowly came back into her vision.

“Hawke.”

This voice was real, solid. Thrask’s face swam into focus.

“Anders,” she said.

Autumn sat up, ignoring the spinning in her head, seeking out Anders. She needed to--he would want her to--

He was gone. The only people she saw were Thrask and the wide-eyed onlookers who had stopped to gape at her.

“Where is he?”

Thrask’s eyes were full of pity, and Hawke had to fight the sudden urge to hit him. “The templars took him away. Hawke, you were reaching for a knife.”

Out of reach. No, he couldn’t be.

“Why do the templars care if I kill him, anyway?” she spat bitterly. “Seems like they ought to think it a fitting end for him, murdered by the woman he loves.” A sharp pain went through her. “Loved.”

Thrask looked away. “They’ll want information from him. About the mage underground, the hidden apostates, that sort of thing. He’s...he’ll have no reason not to tell them now.”

“No!” Every time Autumn thought it couldn’t get any worse, she was hit again by some horrible new revelation. “He can’t. It would kill him.”

_Not anymore_. The words hung between them, but Thrask was thankfully silent.

She wanted to rage. She wanted to storm. But that would do nothing for Anders, and Thrask had always been a friend. So Autumn pushed her pain down, deep into her gut, and looked at Thrask through wet eyes.

“Come on,” he said finally. “I’ll take you home.”


	2. Chapter 2

Hawke couldn’t sleep. She lay on her back, staring emptily up at the canopy above her. She should be thinking about Anders, but her insides had gone numb, as if she’d been made Tranquil along with him. Right now, she could only look at the expensive velvet curtains draping around her bed and think how disgustingly _rich_  she was.

Money.

What good was it? She’d thought it would be a defense, a means of protection. A way to keep the templars at bay. That had been the point of the Deep Roads expedition all those years ago--protection for Bethany. Ha. What a lie that had been. The Wardens had taken her sister away before the money could ever be touched.

But she’d still needed that money, or so she believed. She’d had Anders. Merrill, too, but Varric had taken on most of the responsibility for Merrill’s protection, being better suited to keeping an eye on her in Lowtown. Anders, though. Maker, she had fought for him. It had taken every ounce of her power to keep the templars from her doorstep. Money made that possible, and she’d never once begrudged the wealth that kept her lover safe. She would have done anything for him.

She stared at the canopy, her insides hollow. The rich velvet curtains seemed to be mocking her. _Useless_ , they whispered insidiously. _Your money is useless. Just as you are._

Autumn choked back a sob and turned over, pressing her face into the pillow. She’d failed Anders twice. Once in letting him be caught. And then again, worse, in not killing him when she had the chance.

If he could feel, he would surely hate her. She’d left him an empty shell, and he wouldn’t want to live a moment like that. He’d put so much faith in her, so much faith it scared her, and all for nothing. She’d let him down in every possible way.

And now, with him hidden away, she’d never have the chance to make it right.

Her tears soaked into the pillow as she sobbed. She cried until she was empty, until there were no tears left, and finally, mercifully, fell into sleep.

* * *

Hawke didn’t come. Justice waited impatiently in the Fade, worries washing over him, one after the other. What part of the Fade would she come to in her sleep this time? What if he couldn’t find her? No, he would find her, he would always find her. She was his lifeline, and he was linked to her irrevocably. He had to believe that.

But what if--what if he was wrong? What if it was only the Anders part of himself that was connected to Hawke, and he--Justice--was extraneous, an unnecessary component in their love, easily tossed away…

What if he did find her, and she didn’t recognize him? What if she looked at him blankly, utterly impassive, completely indifferent to his presence? Or worse, what if--

What if she saw him as the force that corrupted Anders?

what if she

hated

him

Before he could properly process that thought, the Fade began to blur. Justice’s heart--such as it was--leapt into his throat. A moment later--Autumn stood before him.

Beautiful. So, so beautiful. A beauty that could not be marred by the red puffiness of her eyes or the tears staining her cheeks. He longed to brush those tears away, but he stood still, afraid to move, afraid to disturb the perfection of her visage.

“Autumn,” he croaked.

And he fell to his knees.

Autumn blinked and took one small step forward.

“I’m dreaming,” she said.

“Yes.”

“This isn’t real?”

How to answer? “I’m real,” he whispered.

“Don’t lie to me.” He could tell she meant to be angry, but her voice shook. “If you’re not him, if you’re some spirit, some _demon_ , trying to trick me, I swear to Andraste that I will _end you_.”

What could he say to that? Justice clenched his fists and tore his eyes from her, trying to stop himself from trembling.

The moment stretched on. Then he heard her footsteps rush forward. Startled, he looked back to see her sink to her knees before him. Her hands cupped his cheeks, tilting his face towards hers.

“Justice?” Her voice was a whisper.

He was still quivering in her hands as he closed his eyes and nodded.

The next thing he knew, Autumn’s lips were on his. He jerked his eyes open in shock, then squeezed them shut again. The force of the kiss pushed him backwards, and he caught himself with one hand. Seemingly oblivious, Autumn climbed into his lap, fingers tangling in his hair.

He was lost. Her lips overwhelmed him. They moved against his, both gentle and urgent at the same time. Her body pressed closer to his, and he responded, wrapping his arms around her to hold her close, close, close.

never

close

enough

She pulled back, breaking the kiss with a gasp. Eyes still shut, Justice leaned forward, seeking her lips again. When he didn’t find them, he opened his eyes to see her gazing at him, and the pain etched on her face broke his heart.

“Sweet Maker.” She ran a thumb along his cheekbone, sending a shiver through him. “They didn’t just make you Tranquil. They ripped you in half.”

Warm relief flooded him, and he slumped, letting his head fall forward against her chest. She understood. Of course she understood. How could he have doubted? Nobody knew him like Hawke. She’d never loved him for only half of himself. No, she was too good for that. She loved every broken piece of him.

and he could never deserve her

Autumn pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I’m here now,” she murmured into his hair. “I have you.”

He wanted to tell her everything, wanted to explain the horror, the agony, the torrent of despair that assaulted him--he who had once prided himself on being disconnected and objective. He’d been pulled into a whirlpool of feeling, and he had no way to cope. It was the other half-- _Anders_ \--that knew how to take the onslaught of emotion and break it into manageable pieces. The fragment that was left of him now was helpless against the deluge.

He needed to tell her

but he had

no words

He said the only thing he could.

“It’s unjust.” Saying it aloud brought him near to tears. “It’s unjust, Autumn.”

Her arms around him tightened. “I know. I know.”

And Justice believed her. He was certain she understood completely all the things he could not say.

“You’ll help me?” He needed to hear it, needed the promise from her own lips.

Her answer was fierce. “Always.”

The most comforting word in the world.


End file.
